


I feel your heart beating to the rhythm inside

by meyretzka (stuckay)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: ESC au, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckay/pseuds/meyretzka
Summary: Mario has won the national selection for the Eurovision Song Contest. Now he got a group of dancers for his performance in the final, including one particularly good-looking guy. Things can only get confusing from there...





	I feel your heart beating to the rhythm inside

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I had this idea in January and have been writing on it since then. Rest assured, I listened to a lot of Eric Saade while writing :D
> 
> Please be aware that English is not my first language and mistakes may occur.
> 
> Big thank you to [youmeafterthegame](http://youmeafterthegame.tumblr.com/) for helping me! Love you :*

“And the winner of our national selection, representing Germany at this year’s Eurovision Song Contest, is…” The presenter paused. The silence in the room stretched out, making the tension feel almost tangible. Mario and his only remaining competitor stood next to each other and looked up at the big screen in front of them, both of them waiting anxiously for the final decision. The seconds ticked away and the anticipation rose to a point where it was almost unbearable to wait any longer. Then suddenly:

“Mario Götze!”

The audience erupted in thundering applause and cheering. Mario was engulfed in a hug but barely took notice of it. Instead he kept staring at the screen displaying the results of the public voting. Below a picture of his face it said: Mario Götze, 67%. He couldn’t believe it. He’d just won the national final. He was going to Kyiv. He was going to Eurovision!

Mario had been an avid viewer of the show ever since he could remember. It was his highlight of the year, even better than Christmas or his birthday. Year after year he had watched it, always wishing to one day be on that stage himself. When six years ago he had started to take singing lessons - because his mother had told him that he shouldn’t waste such a talent - he had never imagined, however, that this would actually happen to him. But now here he was.

The following days were a whirlwind of interviews, rehearsals and press conferences. His song was an upbeat dance-pop number with some electro elements which he was actually very proud of as he himself had written the lyrics and composed parts of the melody. His manager, Thomas, had actually advised him to rather sing a ballad because it apparently fit his voice better. They even had an already finished song by a world-class songwriter that was guaranteed to be a success at their disposal. But remembering how each year there seemed to be an ever-growing abundance of ballads and how much they were starting to annoy the community, himself included, he refused and somehow managed to have his way. Winning the national selection had only reinforced his faith in his decision, and also seemed to have convinced Thomas that this song was the best choice for Mario.

-

About a week after his win he entered Thomas’ office to discuss further details only to be greeted by four unfamiliar men standing in front of the desk and looking to be in light conversation with one another. They couldn’t be more than a few years older than Mario and looked like they had just come from a cover shoot for the Teen Vogue. Maybe Thomas was about to sign them as new clients. Were boy bands still a thing?

Mario stopped, not sure whether he was interrupting another meeting of Thomas’ but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. He checked his watch. 12:30. That was what they had arranged, wasn’t it?

The One Direction imitation hadn’t noticed him yet so he cleared his throat and spoke. “Uh, if I may ask: who are you?” It came out a bit harsher than he intended but he really was a bit annoyed that these four were messing up his time plan for the day. He had an appointment for another interview in an hour.

The four of them turned to face him and though his greeting was less than friendly their faces lit up at his arrival. One of them, dressed in a black sweater and jeans with a strand of dark blond hair peeking out from under his cap, opened his mouth and was about to speak when Thomas burst in from another door to the right of the room.

“Sorry, I had to take tha- ah Mario, there you are!”

Mario looked from the group of men to Thomas and back. “Um, am I interrupting something? I can come back later if-”

“Oh no, absolutely not! In fact, you’re just right on time! You do remember the discussion we had on how we needed a bit more ‘spice’ for your performance at the grand finale, do you? Well, may I introduce you to your new backing dancers? These are Pierre, Marco, Erik and Marc.”

Mario did remember the discussion Thomas was talking about. They had both agreed that even though he had been able to win over the people in Germany on his own, the performance he had given wouldn’t suffice to get the whole of Europe to vote for him. Backing dancers were, surprisingly, the last thing he’d had in mind, though. But really, what else should he have expected?

The one next to the attractive blond made a step towards him, holding out his hand for Mario to shake and grinned at him. “Call me Auba!”

Tentatively, Mario took the hand that was offered to him while looking around at each of them. “Uh… hi? I guess? I’m Mario but you probably know that already.”

Wow, what a great and absolutely not embarrassing first impression…

But Auba just laughed amicably, flashing a big smile. “Who doesn’t?”

Mario felt himself flushing a bit, still not used to his newfound fame, but smiled back at him. “I’m pretty sure there are enough people out there that don’t know my face.”

“Well, that’s why you have us; we’re here to help you change that! Trust me, with your voice and our skills everyone will remember you!” Auba said and patted him on the back.

-

Four days after he first met the dance crew in Thomas’ office he had his first lesson with them. The group’s former instructor had provided them with a separate room in his dance school which they were free to use whenever they needed to and for which they were all given a key.

Right now, Mario stood in front of the shabby building and seriously questioned his life decisions that have led him to this point. He didn’t consider himself that good of a dancer and it had been quite a shock that Thomas expected him to dance as well even though he should have expected that.

With a sigh he unlocked the front door and walked up the stairs to the second floor. When he entered the hall, the others were already there stretching in front of a giant mirror that covered an entire wall of the studio. Marc was the first one to notice him through the reflection of the mirror.

“Oh, hi Mario!”

At his words the others looked up as well before getting up to greet him.

Mario looked around the room. “Um, I don’t really know how all of this works…”

“Ah, don’t worry!” Auba interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “We’ve listened to your song about a hundred times and we’ve already prepared somewhat of a basic choreography so we’re not starting from scratch. But of course you’re more than welcome to contribute and add suggestions.”

Mario just nodded, feeling a bit dumbfounded. On one hand he couldn’t help but feel left out of the creative process of his performance but on the other hand he was thankful that the group of dancers had taken care of most of the work already. Still he wondered how he could possibly suggest anything when he knew jack shit about dancing.

Thankfully, Erik seemed to have sensed his discomfort. “I think it’s best if we show him what we have so far so he can see for himself.” He turned to Mario. “Would you mind connecting your phone to our speakers and playing your song for us?”

“Of course!” He eagerly fished his phone out of his pocket, glad he wouldn’t have to dance - and embarrass himself - right away. He quickly established the Bluetooth connection before signalling that he was ready.

Auba clapped his hands, spurring the others into action. “Alright guys, let’s get in formation!”

“Did you just quote Beyoncé?” Marc raised his eyebrow in mock acknowledgement.

“What can I say? She just has a way with words that simply encapsulates my character but I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Now shut up and get your ass over here!”

Mario sat down in front of the mirror while the rest of them positioned themselves in a small circle. “Ready?” Auba asked his friends and when they all murmured in agreement he gave him a small nod to indicate that he should start the music. He pressed the button and an all too familiar beat began blasting from the speakers.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

Mario still wasn’t used to hearing his own voice on record but he quickly forgot about that as he watched the crew perform in front of him. It was quite obvious that what they considered to be a ‘basic’ choreography was pretty much an entire finished dance routine. He gulped. How the hell was he supposed to learn all that in a little under three months? And how was he going to add singing to that? His song was only three minutes long but judging from the intensity of this choreo he’ll be dead by the time he was finished. Add nervousness and the pressure of knowing that millions of people would be watching him to that and it’d be a physical impossibility. Great!

The last chords of the song trailed off and the four of them were frozen in their final position, breathing hard while Mario was on the verge of a mental breakdown. For a few seconds no one said anything. Then they slackened their stances and came up to him.

Auba hoisted him up to his feet and grinned proudly. “So? What do you think? I know it’s not fully finished yet and it needs some improvements here and there but that’s all we could do in four days.” He watched him expectantly but all Mario could do was stare at them, unable to process that Auba had just talked down this incredible performance. To him it looked like a perfect choreography from start to finish. “I… you want me to learn all that?”

“Come on, it’s not that hard!” Erik clapped him on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “We’ll show you!”

-

Despite his initial doubts, working with the boys wasn’t actually too bad. Yes, their training sessions were tough and exhausting but they also turned out to be pretty fun and Mario unexpectedly took quite a liking to it. In fact, he found himself looking forward to them each week more and more (which might have also been due to one boy in particular but he’d never admit that if you asked him).

He had been reluctant at first, feeling embarrassed about his lack of dancing skills, but the four of them were very supportive and patient with him, practising every move as often as he needed in order to get it perfectly right. And even though he hadn’t thought that he could have anything to add he did suggest some changes as they went along – mostly to make it easier for him – which the others tried to incorporate as best as possible.

Right from the get go he got along surprisingly well with the team and so, after their third training session, he agreed to Erik’s proposal of hanging out afterwards. After all, he had to work with them for the next two months meaning that getting to know them a bit more outside of work couldn’t be his worst idea. And on top of that, he thought it might be nice to be able to talk to some people who at least partly understood what he was going through at the moment, since all of them were under a lot of pressure.

Once they had finished practise for the day they walked to a cosy café just a few blocks away. Settling for a table towards the back where they could have a little more privacy they quickly engaged in some light small talk, now that they actually had some time to talk about each of their respective lives for the first time since they got to know each other.

“Can I ask you something embarrassing?”

Auba turned his head in Mario’s direction and raised his brow. “Embarrassing for you or for me?”

“For me, I guess.”

“Alright, go ahead!” Auba said, motioning for him to go on.

Mario could sense everyone staring at him, waiting for what he was about to say and felt ridiculous but continued.

“I feel like I should’ve asked this way earlier but I somehow missed the appropriate moment and now it’s awkward. But I’ve been wondering for weeks: why does everyone call you Auba? I mean, how do you get that kind of nickname from Pierre?”

The others started laughing and though they were laughing because of him Mario didn’t feel like they were laughing _at_ him.

“That’s what you call an embarrassing question? Buddy, I was prepared for something way worse. But because you asked so nicely: it’s derived from my last name. My full name is Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang.” Mario face must’ve betrayed him somehow because Auba laughed once more. “I know, that’s quite a mouthful, isn’t it? Especially for primary school kids, which is why everyone resigned to call me Auba, and I just stuck with it. Where did you think did it come from?”

Mario felt rather stupid admitting his own guess but he didn’t have a choice now, did he? “I don’t know, I thought maybe it’s because you like the colour aubergine a lot.”

“Aubergine? Who even says that?” Auba huffed indignantly.

Erik chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there at one point or another. You should’ve seen my face when I first met his mum and she called him Pierre.” He slapped Auba’s arm. “He didn’t even tell me that Auba wasn’t his real name!”

“Ow! I’m sorry, okay? You never asked though, did you? Who even thinks Auba is a real name?”

“How am I supposed to know the entire spectrum of French names?”

“I don’t know man, look them up.”

“Any other nicknames I need to know about?” Mario interrupted their banter.

“Well, mine is Woody.” Marco said. “You know, after that comic bird Woody Woodpecker? But please don’t ask me to explain why.”

Auba leaned over to Mario and held his hand in front of his mouth. “It’s because his hairstyle used to look like Woody’s.” He whispered, though loud enough for all of them to hear. “It was terrible, seriously, be glad you didn’t have to witness that.”

“Hey!” Marco protested. “Shall I show him pictures of when you literally had glow-in-the-dark stars shaved into the side of your head?”

“Those looked cool, okay?”

“Excuse me…”

It took Mario a few seconds to notice that someone was talking to him. Only when the rest of the crew stopped to stare at something behind him did he whirl around in his seat and was met with two girls, probably not older than twelve, nervously shuffling around.

“Yes?”

“We were wondering if… um… Could we take a selfie? With you?” Mario stared at them in bewilderment until Marc, who was sitting next to him, shoved him with his elbow, jolting him out of his stupor.

“Uh, sure.” He wanted to get up but the two of them were already placing themselves on either side of his chair and the one who had spoken held out her phone in front of them. He looked into the camera and before he could even think about putting on his best ‘I-love-my-fans’ smile she had already snapped a picture.

“Thank you so much!” The two girls walked off beaming at the phone and giggling with glee. Mario turned back to the others, shaking his head. “That was weird.”

Marco laughed. “Well, you better get used to it. You’re famous now. This certainly won’t be the last time someone will want their share of the cake.”

Mario made a face, the notion making him queasy. “I’m not a cake to be shared.”

“Too bad! I love cake!”

Mario looked at him incredulously, questioning if he had heard that correctly. “What?” Was this supposed to be some kind of innuendo? Or did he just want to get a rise out of him? Mario wasn’t sure he fully understood these guys’ sense of humour. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Marco was hitting on him.

Auba gave Marco a stern look. “Marco, stop messing with him! You make us all look like a total creeps!”

Marco held up his hands in an apologetic manner. “I’m just teasing. Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Mario suddenly felt pretty silly for just assuming Marco was somehow flirting with him. “No, it’s fine.” He laughed awkwardly.

He didn’t know what horrified him more. His embarrassing reaction just now or the fact that his mind had jumped to some wild imaginations at Marco’s banter. Dammit! Marco might be attractive but that shouldn’t turn him into a horny teenager. He didn’t even know him all that much and this was supposed to be a professional relationship only, anyway. And even if Marco was gay, which was a very slim chance to begin with, that didn’t mean he was in any way interested in Mario. He really needed to control himself!

 -

Over the next couple of weeks the five of them perfected their choreography and though Mario was getting better, he still didn’t feel satisfied with how he was doing in comparison to the rest of them. Which was stupid, he knew that. They were professional dancers. Of course it’d look effortless for them. Still, Mario couldn’t help feeling like a sack of potatoes whenever he got on the dancefloor next to others. What was even worse was that he began to realise that he might have a slight stamina problem or rather, he had difficulties controlling his breathing. He was more or less fine just going through the choreography alone but it got worse as soon as he tried singing and dancing simultaneously.

After a particularly bad session filled with failed attempts and a lot of embarrassment all Mario wanted to do was leave the studio as quickly as possible to go home, crawl under his covers and wallow in self-pity, regretting ever being born. He wasn’t usually one to do that but today was just one of those days. Everything he tried went wrong and he’d seen the exasperated glances the others had exchanged whenever he messed up. He couldn’t even blame them. He was a total failure and in a few weeks the whole of Europe would know it, too.

His plans of a quick exit however were disrupted by Marco who walked over to him while he was forcefully stuffing his clothes into his bag, not caring to fold them properly.

“Hey, don’t be discouraged, okay? We’re gonna work this out together.”

Mario knew that Marco was trying to cheer him up but he couldn’t bring himself to pretend to be optimistic. Without looking up he said. “Oh really?” He immediately regretted snapping at him like that. It wasn’t Marco’s fault that he couldn’t do better than that.

Thankfully, Marco didn’t seem to take it personally and gave him a small smile instead, making Mario feel even more ashamed of his misdirected outburst of anger.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself!”

“That’s easier said than done! Did you not see me today? Or all the weeks before?” He let out a humourless laugh. “I’m pretty much fucked. Zero points for Germany, here we come.”

“Don’t say that! You only need to learn to control your breathing and adjust it to your movements. You had singing lessons, right?”

Mario stopped cramming his shoe into his bag halfway through, having fought with it for quite a time now and finally turned to face Marco completely. “Six full years. And what good did it do? Nothing!” He chucked his bag at the ground in frustration, causing his shoe and water bottle to fall out. He barely resisted the urge to kick it.

Mario didn’t want to be such a whiny mess, especially not in front of Marco, but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t Marco just let it be? He really was not in the mood to talk about this any further right now and Marco’s attempt at a pep talk wasn’t helping much anyway.

But Marco didn’t seem like he wanted to give up so easily and just calmly resumed his talking like Mario didn’t just let out his frustration on an inanimate object like a sulky child. “So you already know the basics. That’s good! Now you only need to find a way to apply them while you’re dancing. That won’t be so hard. Running might help you get the gist of it.”

Mario squinted at him suspiciously. “Did I get that right? You want me to sing while running?”

Marco shrugged. “If it helps.” He deadpanned before giving him a crooked smile. “Look, I know it sounds weird but think it could be a really good exercise. I could come with you if you want. You know, so you don’t feel too embarrassed.” He rubbed his neck as if he suddenly felt self-conscious and wasn’t sure whether Mario would appreciate the offer.

The idea of going running outside while singing out loud made him feel all kinds of uncomfortable. People would definitely stare at him like he was nuts. But as much as he hated to admit it, Marco did have a point. He had to get fit and train his voice somehow. And what was an even more convincing argument: Marco was basically serving him the opportunity to spend more time with him on a silver platter. Mario would be a fool not to take it.

He shook his head, unable to believe that he was about to agree to this, but couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping his lips. “You’re crazy, you know that right?”

Marco smirked triumphantly. “Is that a yes?”

Mario let out a sigh but nodded. “Can’t hurt to try, can it?”

“Great! I’ll, uh, pick you up tomorrow morning? At 8?”

Mario’s head shoot up with a jolt. “You want to start tomorrow? But tomorrow is Sunday!” Truth be told, Mario hadn’t known what an actual weekend felt like ever since he’d won the national selection but Sundays were still his designated ‘Me days’ whenever he could manage to keep them free.

Marco, however, did not show any mercy. “No excuses! The earlier we start the better.”

“Ugh, fine! The things you make me do... You better not make me regret this!” He said pointing his finger at him before picking up his bag and shoe and walking out the door.

-

The next day Marco showed up at his doorstep right on time at 8 o’clock, looking perfect as ever in a black tracksuit and giving him a broad smile that was way too cheerful for this time of the day. “You ready?”

Though Mario was dressed and ready to go physically he wasn’t really, mentally. Not only was he far too tired and exhausted from the previous day; thinking about what he was about to do didn’t exactly boost his eagerness. But there was no way he would send away Marco now so he grabbed his keys and together they walked down the flight of stairs.

Mario was very familiar with the surroundings, having lived there for three years now, so he led Marco to a park nearby where they began with a light jog.

“Okay, so why don’t we start with some warm up exercises first? I hope you still remember them because I have absolutely no idea about these things.”

“What do you mean you have no idea? You were the one suggesting this entire thing!”

“Aw come on!” Marco nudged him playfully. “I’ll join you, okay? That way we’ll both look like total idiots.”

“Alright.” Mario sighed and began doing his daily voice exercises while Marco tried his best to imitate them, though failing hilariously, partly because his voice was just terrible and partly because he couldn’t stop giggling.

“This is ridiculous.” Mario muttered under his breath.

“It really is!” Marco was now full out laughing, forcing him to slow down and eventually stop completely.

“Not funny!” Mario tried his best to maintain a serious expression but he couldn’t suppress a smile that was beginning to cross his face. Damn Marco and his impossible, contagious laugh!

“I’m sorry! It’s just, I keep thinking about the people that walk past us and what they might be thinking. They must take us for complete freaks. Like…” Another fit of snickers escaped his lips. “…singing while going for a jog. Who does that?”

At that, Mario finally cracked up as well and couldn’t keep in his laughter any longer. This whole situation was so absurd. How did Marco even come up with that?

They both stood there, in the middle of the path, laughing like madmen until Mario had almost forgotten why they were laughing at all. Tears of laughter were rolling down his face and he had to hold his stomach because it ached just as much as his cheeks were starting to hurt. And the worst thing, or maybe best thing, was that they couldn’t stop: as soon as one of them tried to stop, he was drawn into it again simply because the other one couldn’t stop. If anyone hadn’t thought them to be absolutely nuts before, they definitely did now.

Eventually, they managed to calm down enough to form coherent sentences again without anyone bursting out into a giggling mess again. Mario wiped at his eyes and, still a bit out of breath, looked over at Marco who was grinning at him like he knew something that he didn’t.

“Thank you! I really needed that.” Mario said and took some deep breaths, preparing to resume his running when Marco stopped him by speaking up.

“You know what? I think I’ve just found the perfect nickname for you.”

“What?” Mario was thrown off by that sudden statement of Marco’s. Had he missed something? Since when was Marco thinking about a nickname for him? He suddenly he felt a bit self-conscious, wondering what he’d done that might’ve caused Marco to bring up this topic so unexpectedly.

“I have!” He insisted. “I’m gonna call you Sunny!”

“Sunny?” Mario was even more confused now.  

“Yes, you know, because your smile is so bright. Like the… sun…” He slowly trailed off. “I just realised that that made me sound like a giant weirdo, didn’t it?” He looked down at his feet with embarrassment. “Just forget-”

“No,” Mario interrupted him. “I… I like it.” He admitted and gave him a shy smile, hoping it would reassure him. Because it was the truth. He really did like it, especially because it was Marco who had come up with it. He never would’ve expected him, or anyone really, to see something so positive about him. “Please, feel free to use it.”

Marco’s face lit up like a Christmas tree which might have been the cutest thing Mario has ever seen. “O-okay, I will!”

Now that they had had some time to take a breath they finally continued their run. But because he’d used up all of his energy on laughing, Mario came to a halt only about ten minutes later. The stitches in his side were screaming at him and his legs were beginning to feel like lead. He bent over and gasped, filling his lungs with as much air as possible. “Oh God, I think I might be dying. Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Don’t be so overdramatic, Sunny!” Marco, who miraculously didn’t seem out of breath at all, came up to him, took his hands from where they were resting on his thighs and lifted them up over Mario’s head. “There…  You can breathe better if you raise your arms up instead of folding in on yourself. Gets more air into your lungs.”

Mario inhaled and exhaled for a few seconds and he grudgingly had to admit that it really did work better. “Well, if you hadn’t come up with this idea I wouldn’t have to get more air into my lungs at all. So this is all your fault anyway!” He said it without malice and hoped Marco was catching on to his sarcasm.

But Marco just chuckled. “I think we better go home now. That’s enough exercise for today.”

“Oh thank God!” Was all Mario got out, causing Marco to laugh once more.

Marco accompanied him back to his apartment, walking not running, before heading home himself and that was that. Mario closed the door after Marco had left and managed to wobble over to his couch where he slumped down face first and didn’t move for the next few minutes. He felt even more exhausted than after any of his dancing lessons but he also couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. The sound of Marco’s laugh still reverberating in his head and remembering the way his eyes got all crinkly when he smiled Mario suddenly understood how someone might think of the sun when looking at someone else.

Sunny…

Mario still couldn’t believe it. Marco had looked at him and seen something so bright and good that he’d wanted that to reflect in his nickname. And then got all self-conscious about it which had made him appear even cuter than he already was.

Mario might have a slight problem here.

-

After almost a week of daily running Mario had kind of gotten used to having to force himself to get out of bed about an hour before he’d usually get up, due to Marco’s incredibly early visits. He still wanted to destroy his alarm clock each morning but most of the time the prospect of seeing Marco motivated him enough to get over himself.

Leaning on his kitchen counter, he was reading through some news articles on his tablet regarding the national selections from other countries and sipped his second cup of coffee when his doorbell rang. He put down his tablet and shuffled, mug still in his hand, to his door. To his surprise Marco wasn’t wearing his usual tracksuit but instead sported a simple white tee, black jeans and his trademark cap.

Mario frowned while giving him an once-over. “We’re not going running today?”

Marco followed Mario’s gaze, looking down at himself. “Ah… no. I’d thought we’d practise our choreo together, if that’s fine with you. Don’t worry, I haven’t invited the others.” He added quickly.

“And here I was thinking you’d take me out for breakfast.”

“Business before pleasure, my dear friend.”

Rolling his eyes, Mario stepped aside to let Marco enter his flat. “Come in! I’m just going to change real quick, I’ll be back in a sec.”

When he came back into his hallway two minutes later, wearing a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt Marco was studying the photos decorating his wall. He didn’t notice him so Mario stepped closer. “Those are the most important people in my life.” He answered the unspoken question.

There was a picture of his parents on their wedding day, taken before Mario was even born and though they’ve gotten a divorce a couple of years ago it was still one of his favourite photos of them simply because they looked so happy in it. Right next to that he’d put a picture of his brother Fabian and himself, playing football in a park. Mario vividly remembered that day, even though he couldn’t have been older than six or seven, solely because in chasing after the ball he had fallen onto the gravel path, scraping his hands and knees and leaving him a prominent scar on his right knee. He had also printed out some photos with his friends from his Instagram profile including one of himself with Ann draping herself over his shoulder, both of them laughing at the camera. They were in full Oktoberfest attire and in the background you could see a Ferris wheel and a swing ride among other attractions.

“Ann moved to the US last year so I haven’t seen her in a while but I’m working on getting her to come to the final.” He said with a nod towards the picture. “She can’t miss my big performance! Everyone else is coming, too.”

Marco gave him a small smile. “She better show up then!” They stood there for a few seconds in an awkward silence, having somehow run out of things to say.

Then Marco started moving and headed for the door. “I think we should get going now. You ready?”

“Yes, coming.” Mario quickly grabbed his keys and phone and followed Marco who held the door open for him.

The drive to the studio in Marco’s car went by mostly quietly. One time Marco asked him whether he should change the station but other than that he didn’t say a word. Mario frantically tried to think of something to talk about but nothing came to mind and Marco didn’t give the impression of wanting to initiate a conversation any time soon either. Eventually, Mario just accepted it and got lost in his own thoughts.

He didn’t know how to feel about this private lesson that was about to take place. On one hand he appreciated Marco’s attempt at helping him improve his performance but on the other he wasn’t really in the mood to embarrass himself in front of him for the second time in a week. Wasn’t once a week enough? And what could Marco help him with, really?

Once at the studio, Marco immediately went to set up some music and then began doing his warm-up routine. Mario watched him sceptically. “Is that really necessary?”

“I don’t think Thomas will be happy if you turn up to the final with a torn ligament, will he?”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Reluctantly, he went to sit down next to him and began stretching his legs as well. They continued doing that for a few more minutes until Marco finally got up to change the music to Mario’s song.

“Alright, let’s go over it one more time, shall we?”

“Uh, okay.” Mario stood up and got into his designated position in front of the mirror, with Marco standing in front of him where the others would have completed the circle.

They did the full choreography twice and Mario did have the feeling that he’d improved already. Maybe it was because Marco’s eyes were fully focused on him, making him try even harder to do his best. Or maybe it was because he had actually practised the choreo by himself in his living room which Marco seemed to have noticed it as well.

“Did you practise on your own? At home?”

“There’s a slight possibility that I might have done that.” He hadn’t planned on doing it but the feeling of being an absolute failure after last week’s session hadn’t left him alone. So on Monday, after he’d come home from shooting his postcard for the final, he had put on his song and started dancing and had continued doing that every evening.

He hadn’t told anyone about it because he wanted to surprise them and show them that he wasn’t totally inapt which, evidently, seemed to be working, at least on Marco, who nodded approvingly. “It shows! It looks really good, you’re doing well!”

“Thank you.” Mario wasn’t used to so much praise. Not form others and not from himself. Usually, when he was writing or recording songs he would never stop pushing himself to the max; and still never ended up being truly satisfied with the result. Even the song with which he was about to compete wasn’t 100% perfect to his mind but Thomas had had to step in at one point as Mario and his producer would have gone on forever trying to improve it.

“But we still might have to work on some parts.”

“Alright. Let’s do it!” Despite initially having a less than enthusiastic attitude towards his dancing lessons Mario was willing to give it his all this time around. Not only because he didn’t want to disappoint Marco and the rest of the crew but mostly because he wanted his performance at the final to be the absolute best he could do. He might feel a bit unsure about his moves, sure, but that’s exactly why he had backing dancers; why Marco was here right now! To help him overcome his insecurities!

He made a mental note to thank all of them tomorrow because how could he disregard the work they’ve been doing so easily? He was ashamed of himself. He’d always appreciated their friendship and the support they provided but he had seen it as a burden to actually try and learn the choreography they had specifically designed to fit _his_ song. He’d never taken the time to acknowledge that they were doing this for him. All of it! What an ungrateful prick he was.

Marco turned down the volume of the music, bringing him back to reality, and Mario did the choreo once more; slowly this time with Marco counting to the rhythm while closely watching his every move. Whenever he detected a mistake in Mario’s posture or a wrong movement he stepped in to correct it.

The feeling of being under observation, however, distracted Mario to the point where he slipped up multiple times and couldn’t focus anymore. It might have been simply from exhaustion or from the stress of wanting to do everything correctly right away or maybe it was both. Still, he had to get that under control. If just one person watching him made him nervous then what was he going to do at the final where millions of eyes would be focused on him?

Marco seemed to sense his anxiety. “Mario, relax!” He came up behind him and put his hands on Mario’s shoulders, smoothing down the fabric and giving them a gentle squeeze. “I feel like you actually know how to dance pretty well but you start overthinking everything and then you mess up. You’re a musician; you have a feeling for the music, for the rhythm. Use it!”

Mario let out a sigh and chuckled, lowering his head. If only it was as simple as that… “You know, I actually took ballroom dancing lessons in 8th grade so I should have somewhat of an idea.”

He looked up at his own reflection in the mirror and saw Marco’s face behind him light up. “Oh really? How come?”

“Our local dance school offered lessons and all of my classmates were doing it so I agreed when Ann asked me if I wanted to be her partner because I didn’t want to be the odd one out.” Mario said with a shrug. “You know, peer pressure is still a big thing when you’re 14.”

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, then.” And before Mario could even realise what Marco was doing he had spun him around and put them in position, taking Mario’s right hand into his left and placing his other hand on Mario’s back.

“Uh, okay.” Mario tried to get used to the unfamiliar pose that would traditionally be taken up by the girl. “I only learned how to lead a dance, though.”

“Ah, you see that’s the easy part. Everyone can lead a dance if they only know the right steps. But following. Following is much harder. You never know what your partner is going to do next. You need to have complete trust in them to guide you, to catch you. So…” A smirk was working its way onto his face. “…do you trust me, Sunny?”

Mario only managed a small nod but that was enough for Marco and he simply began dancing a cha-cha-cha, in step with Mario’s song that was still playing in the background. At first Mario tripped all over his own and Marco’s feet until Marco made him aware of the fact that there wasn’t much of a difference to what he’d learned previously. They were the exact same steps; he only had to start by going backwards instead of forwards or by going right instead of left.

“You need to learn to let go. Don’t think about it, just feel it.”

Mario focused on the music, trying to block out the fact that there was a distance of literally two inches in between his body and Marco’s and after a while he could feel himself relaxing. When he finally felt that he got the hang of it without having to constantly stare at his feet he looked up. “I didn’t know you could do ballroom dances as well.” He prompted.

“If you grow up dancing you kinda try out everything at least once.” Marco said with a shrug. “And, you know, it’s not like I don’t like it. I just like hip-hop more.”

Suddenly, without warning he raised his left arm and twirled Mario around. In his surprise Mario lost his footing and almost fell over but Marco fortunately caught him in time. Now he knew what he had meant earlier by ‘completely trusting your partner’. This little mishap, however, had put him in a precarious situation.

He was clutching Marco’s shirt, his body pressed tightly to Marco’s. His face was so close Mario could feel his breath on his cheek, giving him shivers all over. He was pretty sure Marco could sense his heart hammering in his chest and if it hadn’t been for Marco holding him his knees probably would’ve give in already.

None of the two said anything. Marco just kept staring at him with this intensity like he was looking for something that would grant him access to Mario’s thoughts before, for a split second, his eyes travelled down to Mario’s lips. Mario sensed his cheeks heating up.

“I- I think we should go back to our choreo now.” Mario whispered, trying to break the awkward tension that filled the room but did nothing to actually follow his own suggestion. It was like he was frozen in place.

Marco cleared his throat. “Right…” Slowly, he helped him stand upright before letting go of him and quickly making his way over to where his phone was lying. “Repeat from the top?”

His smile was innocent, like nothing ever happened, but his eyes were still staring into Mario’s soul.

-

Amazingly, that afternoon hadn’t changed anything. The remaining dancing and running sessions had gone by without any more ‘incidents’, as Mario had decided to call it and the two of them had just gone back to how things had been before. Sometimes, Mario wondered whether he had actually only dreamed the entire thing or if he just read too much into it. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to talk about it but Marco did his best to pretend it didn’t happen anyway and so Mario was happy to do the same.

After five more weeks of tough training the group had made some impressive progress and for the first time Mario felt like he could actually pull this off successfully. They were set to fly over to Kyiv a week before the big final. That way, Thomas had said, they would have plenty of time for countless rehearsals and interviews. The flight only took about two and a half hours but it was still very early so Mario used the time to catch up on some sleep that he didn’t get the night before due to his nerves.

Once they arrived, Mario and the other contestants had about half a day to explore the city and do some sightseeing but since camera crews from different European TV channels were present to further promote the competition only the main acts were invited on the trip.

Mario immediately got along with the guys from Latvia and spent a lot of time with Nathan from Austria as they both spoke the same language and quickly discovered that they shared a similar sense of humour. In a way, it really did feel like one big Eurovision family. Just like he had always imagined.

Nevertheless, Mario missed hanging out with his dance crew. Over the past few months the four of them have slowly but steadily grown on him, without him even noticing, and now he was at a point where he wouldn’t want to do without them. They were more than just co-workers; they were his friends and couldn’t imagine a life without them anymore. He was surprised at how fast he had let these initial strangers become such an important part of his life but he found that he didn’t mind one bit.

Unfortunately though, over the next few days Mario was rushed from one interview to the next and didn’t really see his friends much outside of rehearsals but even then they focused on working and didn’t have time to chat. The only time they could really do that was in the evening back at their hotel where they met up every night in one of their rooms (usually Mario’s since his single was bigger than their doubles) to talk and relax from the day’s events. _Almost like a weeklong sleepover_ , Mario thought.

“Did you finally get a selfie with Epic Sax Guy?” Auba said by way of introduction as he walked passed Mario who was still holding the door open for the others. When everyone had entered Mario closed the door and walked back to the spot on his bed where he had sat before Auba had knocked.

“No, not yet.”

“Hello? What’s wrong with you? It’s Epic freaking Sax Guy! I thought you were the biggest ESC fan out there!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I have to act like one in front of everyone else, does it? I’m sure we’ll see him again soon; then you can ask him for a pic yourself.”

“You’re right, that’s even better.”

They weren’t supposed to drink so shortly before the final but Erik and Marc had already pulled out three bottles of schnapps and a bottle of orange juice to mix it with from under their jackets while Mario and Auba had been talking and had begun pouring it into the plastic cups that Marco had brought along. They settled down on the floor since Mario’s bed was too small for five people and Marc gave a toast “to Mario for getting us out of Dortmund for the first time in two years” as he put it. “It’s not quite a vacation but it might as well be.”

They ‘clinked’ their cups and then went on to play a few drinking games. It was a lot of fun but Mario took care not to drink too much, knowing that he’d regret it the next morning if he overdid it now, and instead resigned to watching the others get wasted. Which happened faster than expected. While he had finished one glass, only taking a small nip instead of doing a whole shot whenever required, the rest had emptied the bottles and were now faced with that exact problem.

“I told you three bottles weren’t enough!” Marc said accusingly. Looking at his friends’ current state Mario thought three bottles were more than enough but he didn’t voice that sentiment.

“Well, you pay next time then we’ll see how many bottles are enough.” Auba snapped back at him.

Erik, who seemed to have one too many already, held up one of the bottles in front of his face, looking deep in thought, when suddenly a delighted expression crossed his face. “Let’s play truth or dare!” He exclaimed excitedly, his words slightly slurred.

Mario scowled. “Really? We’re not teenagers anymore, are we?” He had only had bad experiences with that game in his life so far and therefore wasn’t a big fan. He had never been one to say ‘no’ easily and so he had let himself be pressured into doing and admitting things he’d rather have avoided during high school.

“Come on! It’s gonna be fun!” Marc chimed in.

The others were tipsy enough to also be on board with Erik’s terrible idea immediately and Mario stood no chance against the four of them urging him to join in so he surrendered with a sigh. He was older now and knew his boundaries. It couldn’t be that bad. “Alright,” he motioned for Erik to start, “turn the bottle.”

Erik did as he was told and the opening of the bottle pointed at Marc. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“Mhh, let’s see…” He took a few seconds to think before coming up with something he deemed appropriate. “Text on of your exes and tell them you miss them.”

“Ugh, I hate you.” Marc groaned while getting out his phone. “I don’t even know if I have any of their numbers still saved.” He scrolled through his contacts. “Ah, yes here we go. What should it say? Just ‘I miss you’?”

“Add some crying emojis.” Marco told him. “And a ‘Can we talk please?’.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you could be so mean.” Mario stared at him with surprise.

Marco just shrugged. “Well, you know, Marc has done me dirty so many times before… he deserves it once in a while.”

“Done!” Marc put away his phone without waiting for an answer. “It’s my turn now!” He grabbed the bottle and spun it. Mario watched it gradually slow down until it came to a halt, the neck pointing in his direction. Marc looked up at him. “Truth or Dare?”

Mario didn’t feel like having to complete a stupid dare that could cause him some sort of injury which he really didn’t need so shortly before the grand final so he chose Truth.

Marc didn’t need to think for long. “Do you like someone right now?”

It was the most cliché Truth or Dare question; the one that was always asked first and still it caught Mario off-guard. Without meaning to he shot a quick glance at Marco but thankfully no one seemed to have noticed.

He looked back at Marc. “Yes.”

“Oh my God!” Erik interrupted. “Who is it? Do we know her? Don’t tell me it’s one of the contestants! Is it?”

“One question only.” Mario reminded them. That was something he had learned from his long history of suffering through that game. Don’t answer follow-up questions. It only makes things worse.

“Aw, come on! We won’t tell anyone, right?” Erik looked around at the others, searching for support but no matter what they said nothing could make Mario tell them that he was hardcore crushing on Marco. Nuh-uh! Never!

He just shook his head, determined to not give in, and took the bottle to spin it. It pointed at Auba. “Truth or Dare?”

The game went on like that while Mario frantically tried to find a way to terminate it as quickly as possible. He had been wrong in thinking it couldn’t be that bad. It could be that bad! He knew that he couldn’t allow the bottle to point at him again. Because then he’d have to pick Truth once again in order to avoid doing a dare and the others would 100% ask who his crush was. And what was he supposed to do then?

He could sense his anxiety surging up and he felt just like his 15 year-old self again. Oh God, he hated this game so much!

Marco was about to spin the bottle when Mario pretended to check the time on his phone as if he hadn’t looked at it ten times already. “Oh wow!” He did his best to come off as surprised. “I think it’s time we go to bed now, don’t you think?”

“What? It’s only 11!” Erik complained.

“Yes, and we have to get up at 7 tomorrow. You’ve all already had enough alcohol to wake up with a headache so you can thank me tomorrow for saving you from yourselves and sending you to bed early.”

“Humph, fine.”

They got up reluctantly and picked up their stuff as well as the empty bottles before making their way out of his room. As soon as Mario closed the door behind them it felt like a weight had been lifted of his shoulders and he exhaled with a sound of relief. He was never going to play Truth or Dare ever again!

-

Two days later Mario paced his dressing room, trying to calm himself by repeating his breathing exercises over and over again. It was the night of the finale and his performance was set to begin any second. The problem was that he’d been having trouble breathing properly for a few minutes now and was about to have a total breakdown. He knew the stakes were high. Over the past couple of years, with the exception of Lena’s win, Germany has always done poorly, even finishing last the two previous years.

Unfortunately, reminding himself of those facts only helped to make him more insecure and the exercises did absolutely nothing to soothe his nerves. This was all too much. He couldn’t go out there. What if he failed? What if everybody hated him and his song?  What if he was the next one to go home with no points? Why did he ever agree to this? He was going to fail and everybody would laugh at him.

No! He needed to calm down. He couldn’t get a panic attack now. If he didn’t stop freaking out right this second everything would go to shit.

Fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! His hands started shaking and he almost started laughing at the absurdity of this entire situation.

Suddenly, he heard a knock at his door, making him freeze on the spot. The blood in his veins ran cold and his heart skipped a beat before going into full-on overdrive. He could feel a knot beginning to form in his stomach, making him feel like throwing up.

_Oh God!_

He couldn’t go out there right now! He wasn’t ready!

“Mario! Hurry up! It’s our turn.” It was Marco, whose cheerful voice seemed so out of place compared to the silence of the stuffy room, disrupted only by Mario’s erratic breathing. Mario forced his feet to walk over to the door and opened it slowly, afraid of anyone seeing him like this.

“There you are! We need to g-” Marco stopped midsentence and his expression immediately changed, worry written all over his face. “Hey, are you alright?”

A weak shake of his head was all Mario could manage for fear of breaking down completely if he dared to speak right now.

“Alright!” Marco motioned for Mario to take a step back before following him inside and closing the door. “Okay, breathe!” He waited until Mario had inhaled and exhaled a few times. “Good! Now tell me what you’re so afraid of.”

Marco’s presence soothed him a bit but he still felt like he was about to hyperventilate. “I… I don’t…I-”

Marco grabbed his face with both of his hands, lifting it a bit so they were facing each other. “Sunny! Look at me!” Mario looked up. “Listen, we’ve practised this so many times. You aced every single one of your rehearsals. You know the choreo; you know your song. It’s all just a matter of muscle memory.”

Mario nodded, trying to tell himself that Marco was right. But what if he fell? What if he forgot the lyrics? So many things could go wrong.

“Mario! Breathe!” The look in his eyes was so full of concern and Mario hated himself for causing him so much worry on his behalf but he couldn’t stop. His initial nervousness had now turned into a full-blown panic attack, tears were pooling in his eyes and somewhere in the back of his mind the thought occurred to him that he’d ruin his make-up should he start to cry now.

“I can’t! I ca-”

All of a sudden, Marco’s lips were on his. At first, he didn’t even realise what was happening, his eyes wide open in shook. He felt so overwhelmed that everything around him just came to a standstill and only when Marco pulled away did he remember to breathe. The whole thing was over before it had even begun but it answered its purpose of making Mario forget about his panic attack.

“I believe in us, I believe in you!” A big smile graced Marco’s features. “Now let’s rock this!” And before Mario had the opportunity to process anything Marco was already out the door and he had no choice but to follow him if he didn’t want to be any more delayed than he already was. He cast a last glance at his reflection in the mirror, carefully wiping away the remainder of the tears and making sure he still looked presentable to an audience of millions before heading out.

The rest of the crew was visibly relieved to see him when he met them behind the stage. “Oh thank God! We were honestly afraid you wouldn’t show up.”  Auba remarked. “What was taking you so long?”

“I..-”

“Team Germany? It’s your turn!” A stage assistant saved him from having to explain his tardiness and ushered them towards the stage where they all smiled and waved into a camera for the people at home. After the stagehands had finished removing the set of the previous act the five of them got on stage and waited for the performance to start.

For a few seconds everything was quiet. Then the first chords of the song started playing and Mario began singing and dancing as if he’d never done anything else in his entire life. Marco had been right: it really did all come down to muscle memory. Mario didn’t even pay attention to anything besides the feeling of just being in the moment; his body already knew what it was supposed to be doing.

And before he knew it the music faded out and the audience burst into applause, excitedly waving all kinds of European flags. Mario looked down at the crowd of people, still a bit out of breath, and was overcome with gratefulness. For getting the chance to experience all of this, for the support he had received from his fans, for everyone who had helped him to make this possible.

But a simple “Thank you!” was all he could say before he had to clear the stage for the next act.

Once they were backstage Marco pulled him into a quick but tight hug. “You were fantastic!” Marc patted him on the back. “Yeah, you really were! You killed it!” He added enthusiastically.

Mario felt overwhelmed. “You’re giving me too much credit. _We_ killed it! This was a team effort! I couldn’t have done any of this without you so… thank you!”

“Aww!” They all went in for a group hug and once again Mario found himself wondering what he had done to deserve such incredible friends like them.

-

Mario had been fifth in line so he had more than enough time to calm down from his high while watching the remaining acts from the green room. There were some really good acts and some really weird ones, as per usual, but all of them totally deserved to be on that stage.

The interval act was phenomenal, though it couldn’t top last year’s but that was a feat almost no one would be able to achieve. They brought back some popular acts from the past and of course Verka Serduchka made an appearance, reprising her iconic 2007 performance.

Then it was time for the jury votes. The big hall went quiet as the hosts called the first country to present its votes.

“Good evening Greece!”

“Good evening Kyiv! This is Athens calling. Thank you for an amazing show tonight! I feel so honoured to be a part of this! Now, this is how Greece voted: eight points go to Belgium! Ten points go Cyprus! And our twelve points go to… Italy!”

And so an hour of peculiar presenters, exuberant compliments and a lot of awkward pauses began. And things went well. Really well, actually. Mario was among the top three a lot and even when he wasn’t he still got at least a few points most of the time. Only very few countries didn’t give his song any points but he didn’t care all that much seeing as he continuously climbed the table, along with Italy, Sweden, Belgium and Portugal.

But nothing was set in stone yet. Once it was time for the televote to be announced Mario felt his nervousness coming back. He was currently at sixth place but that was as good as irrelevant. The public vote had the power to mix up the entire table once more, meaning it was still all up in the air. The only thing that was certain by that point was that he wouldn’t go home with zero points but that was a small consolation should he actually end up being last.

Bit by bit every country got its public vote, making for some surprising turn of events. Belgium which had been popular among the juries received its score pretty early and consequently slid down the table further and further as the awarding went on. The UK on the other hand shocked everybody by launching into the top ten with a total of 231 points. In the end, there were only two countries left that hadn’t received their votes yet. Sweden and Germany.

Sweden got its first and rose to the top of the table. Mario’s heart was beating faster than ever before. He was so close to actually winning. But in order to do that he had to get at least 378 points.

“You have given your highest score to Germany but will it be enough?”

The second host took over. “Germany got…” Once again there was a dramatic pause. “381 points which is enough to surpass Sweden! The winner of the Eurovision Song Contest 2017 is Germany!”

Mario didn’t even hear the last few words as all of his friends engulfed him in a group hug before the presenter had even finished speaking. He tried to hug all of them back as best as possible and while being smothered by their embrace he couldn’t prevent some tears of joy from rolling down his cheeks.

He’d actually done it! He’d won the fucking ESC!

-

After having accepted the trophy and having performed his song once more the official part of the contest ended. But the night was far from over. All of the participants were invited to an after show party at the hotel where they resided.

Upon his arrival Mario was swamped by paparazzi asking him for a comment on his miraculous win. It took him about 15 minutes to shake them off and get to the party that was already well underway. But even once he was there he was stopped every ten seconds by random people who wanted to congratulate him.

He accepted the praise, giving each of them a big smile to not come off as rude but if he was honest this was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He had more important things to deal with.

Ever since the performance he and Marco didn’t have any time to talk in private about what happened in the dressing room. Because by now, Mario was 90% sure that whatever was going on between them wasn’t just a one-sided thing and needed to be addressed. He wouldn’t pretend like nothing happened. Not again! He just needed clarity; no matter what the answer would turn out to be. He had to know how Marco felt about the two of them.

He let his eyes roam the chattering crowd, searching for the familiar mop of dark blond hair but it got caught on Auba talking to a beautiful woman in a sparkling golden dress standing to the right of the room.

Mario immediately headed in their direction. “Ann! You made it!”

She turned around and as soon as she saw him her face lit up. “Mario!” She threw her arms around him and gave him a light squeeze before leaning back and giving him a kiss on each cheek. “You were wonderful, magical, fantastic, amazing, breath taking! I even may have cried a little bit.”

Mario felt the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a way only Ann could make them do. Oh, how he had missed her! “Oh God stop! You’re making me blush.”

“Well, I sure hope I am! And of course I made it!” She slapped his upper arm in mock indignation. “I can’t miss an opportunity to see my best friend owning the stage in front of millions of people and winning the entire competition, can I?”

Mario chuckled. “I guess not.” He nodded towards Auba. “I take it you two already know each other, then?”

“Yes, Pierre offered to help me look for you since I couldn’t find you among all of these people. He told me he’s part of your dance crew.”

“Pierre?” He shot him a knowing smirk which Auba simply responded to with a shrug that indicated that he was only kind of sorry for playing the gentleman.

Mario couldn’t bring himself to care much, though, as from the corner of his eye he had discovered Marco at the bar a few meters behind Auba. This was his chance. He had to talk to him now before he left and Mario lost him to the crowd. Looking back at Ann he gently grasped her by her shoulders and put on an apologetic expression. “Uh, would you mind if I leave you for just a second?”

She turned around to find out what he’d seen that was so important that he had to leave her behind and a grin spread across her face once she noticed Marco. “Of course not! Go get him!”

Mario was already about to make his way towards Marco when he stopped to stare at her. “How do you know?” He hissed, not wanting Auba to catch what they were talking about.

“Oh, Pierre told me all about it.”

Startled, Mario gaped at Auba. “Aw, c’mon, you weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I...” He was at a loss for words. For how long had Auba known? And if he knew did the rest of them know about it as well?

His expression must’ve looked pretty hilarious as Ann burst out giggling before shooing him in Marco’s direction. “Go ahead! Talk to him!”

He shook his head to dismiss the questions that were coming to his mind and instead walked over to the bar where Marco sat with Erik and Marc, a half-empty cocktail sitting in front of him on the counter.

They noticed him when he was halfway at the bar and greeted him with their drunken roars and cheers. “There he is! The man! The legend! The one and only!” Erik exclaimed and raised his glass in greeting.

Mario just gave him a quick smile and then addressed Marco who had stayed quiet, his expression unreadable.

“Hey, uh, can I talk to you for a second? In private?”

Marc and Erik shot each other knowing glances, meaning they probably noticed Mario’s crush on Marco as well. Was it really that obvious?

A little begrudgingly, Marco got up and followed him to a somewhat secluded balcony, away from the bustle and noise of the party.

The gust of fresh air that hit him once he stepped outside was a welcome change from the stale air inside and Mario took a deep breath before turning around to lean against the handrail. He crossed his arms; trying his best come across as relaxed and cool but in reality he just didn’t know what to do with his hands. He opened his mouth but before he could even say anything Marco cut him off.

“Aren’t you supposed to give interviews and let yourself be celebrated by everyone else?”

Mario winced at Marco’s harsh tone but chose to ignore the jab and instead decided to get straight to the point. If he didn’t get it over with now he never would. “So we’re just not gonna talk about this at all?”

“Talk about what?”

It bothered him that Marco deliberately pretended not to know what he was referring to and made him say it out loud. What was he so mad about? “Oh, I don’t know! Maybe the fact that you kissed me.”

Marco’s expression of nonchalance fell for a second but he quickly regained his composure. “You were hyperventilating! When I did that, it made you hold your breath, consequently calming you down and helping you breathe normally again.”

Everything about the way he explained it sounded so scientific, so clinical and emotionless that Mario was about to give up hope already. But he had to make sure. He gathered all his courage and braced himself for the response. “So… no feelings involved?”

Marco said nothing and avoided his gaze, staring down at his feet instead. For a few moments the muffled music of the celebration going on inside filled the silence between them. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh and looked up at him. “What do you want me to say, Mario? That it didn’t mean anything to me? That I want us to stay friends? That I’m happy for you and your girlfriend? Because I can’t do that, I’m sorry.” He turned his back on him and reached for the door handle. It took Mario’s brain a few seconds to catch up with what he’d just said.

“Hold up! My what?” He was still trying to figure out if he understood Marco’s words correctly. Did he really just confess to having feelings for him? And why did he think he had a girlfriend?

“Ann, or whatever her name is. The one who’s here tonight; the one from the photo on your wall.”

And suddenly, Mario was beginning to understand.

“Marco, she’s just my best friend. Has been ever since we were kids. But she was and could never be my girlfriend.”

Marco still wore a wary expression, clearly trying to protect himself from getting hurt too much. “Why not? You two seem pretty close.”

Mario almost started laughing at the way they were tiptoeing around each other. He was almost sure of his assumption now so he decided to just risk it and say it outright. “Because she’s a girl. That’s why!”

Once again, Marco stayed silent, this time however staring at him in disbelief while understanding slowly began to dawn on him.

“Marco, please tell me that I haven’t been imagining this…” he waved his hands in an attempt to convey his feelings “…thing between us!”

“Wait, you mean-“

“Yes! Goddammit, yes!”

Before he could say anything else Marco had crossed the distance between them with two big strides. His body was pressing Mario’s back to the handrail and his face was so close their breath mingled in the air between them.

“Couldn’t you have told me that earlier?”

“Why didn’t you?” Mario retorted.

Marco snorted. “Yeah right…”

For a few moments none of the two moved or said anything.

“I would really like to kiss you right now. Properly, I mean.” Marco’s voice was nothing more than a whisper but it gave Mario goosebumps all over.

“Then fucking do it already!” Mario muttered as he put his arms around Marco’s neck and pulled him down to capture his lips in a kiss.

And kiss him he did. The quick peck in the dressing room was nothing compared to this. His whole body felt electrified. Marco’s hands reached around his waist, pulling him closer. His tongue traced over his lips to part them and Mario willingly obliged, deepening the kiss even further. His heart started pounding even faster than during his performance or the voting results and he felt like he could do anything.

They broke apart, both panting, and the relieved expression on Marco’s face - his eyes still half-lidded, a blissful smile grazing his features - reflected Mario’s own emotions. Even without the win this would’ve been the best day of his life so far.

“I can’t believe I actually got the guy.” Marco said with a light chuckle, shaking his head.

Mario let out a laugh. “Me neither. And a handsome one at that.” He said running his fingers through Marco’s hair before going in for a second kiss.

-

**~3 months later~**

“This is RadioSF, my name is André Schürrle and you just listened to Mario Götze’s new single ‘Another Body’. He’s actually with me right now in the studio!” The radio host addressed him once more. “Mario, we were just talking about your debut album that’s gonna come out this Friday called ‘Ethereal Inferno’. You said that you took a lot of inspiration from your own experiences.”

“Yeah, I wanted my first album to be a personal album. At first, I also thought about making it a concept album but I had so many songs, some of them I wrote two or three years ago, just laying around that I decided against it.”

“You also wrote your entry for the Eurovision Song Contest yourself and won the competition this year. Your career has gone through the roof ever since. How do you deal with what’s happening to you at the moment?”

“To be honest, I don’t know how I deal with it.” He laughed. “I don’t have a game plan or anything and I just take things as they come, you know? I’m trying to live for the moment and enjoy the feeling. My manager - shout out to you, Thomas – has been a lifesaver for me. I’m very glad to have him. He’s been kind of a mentor to me and I wouldn’t know what to do without his organisational skills. I probably wouldn’t have shown up here today if he didn’t keep me up to date with all of my appointments.”

The host returned his laugh. “Well, we’re particularly glad you’ve found your way to our studio then.”

“Me, too. Thanks for having me!”

“Anytime! So uh, we asked your fans to tweet us some questions for you so we’re gonna have a quick twitter Q&A.” He scrolled through his laptop until he found was he was looking for. “Aha!” He glanced at Mario. “Are you ready?”

Mario nodded his approval. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

“Alright, this one should be interesting for all the ladies out there. @WeLoveMario_ESC asks: Do you have a girlfriend?”

Mario chuckled at the predictable question. It was about to come up sooner or later, wasn’t it? “I do not, actually.”

“So you’re still waiting for the one?” The host dug deeper.

“I wouldn’t call it waiting. I’d say I’m pretty happy with the way things are at the moment.” It was one of the many stock answers that he had memorized and that he had heard so many celebrities use before him in one way or another.

Thankfully, the host didn’t push further. “Well, I’m sure as long as you are happy, your fans will be happy, too.” He looked back at his laptop. “Okay, next question. @eurovisionaddict wants to know: Do you get nervous and is there any kind of ritual you do before you go on stage?”

“I do get nervous. A few minutes before I had to perform in the final I was like going up and down in my dressing room, just going ‘What am I doing here?’.” His laugh sounded like the fakest thing ever to his own ears as he remembered the mental state he’d been in but he hoped it didn’t reveal his true emotions. “But I don’t have a specific ritual. Not yet, at least. That night, I was just glad my friends were with me, they calmed me down and gave me strength so I could give my best performance.”

“Speaking of: let’s listen to your winning song now. Here it is: ‘Headlights’ by Mario Götze, winner of the ESC 2017.”

Half an hour later Mario stepped out of the studio, glad to be taking in some fresh air. He’d probably never get used to the growing public interest in his persona but that was the path he’d chosen to go and he would have to deal with it.

Outside, Thomas, who had driven him to the radio station, was still waiting for him and took him home in his car.

He’d had about ten minutes of rest when his doorbell rang. He shuffled to his door and opened it and there he was, giving him a broad smile. And try as he might, after all these months the sight of Marco still didn’t fail to take his breath away every damn time.

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

Mario couldn’t help but smile like an idiot but Marco didn’t seem to feel any different.

“I brought us something to eat.” He held up the brown paper bag which emanated the unmistakable smell of delicious fast food, making Mario’s stomach rumble. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until now.

“Come in!”

He led the way to his living room and quickly cleared up his coffee table so Marco could put down the takeaway. Mario put on the soccer match they had agreed to watch and they settled down on the couch together.

He was fully focused on the match but after a while he noticed that Marco was occasionally smirking down at him so he tilted his head up.

“What?”

“Still waiting for _the one_ , eh?” Marco said mockingly while poking him in his side.

“Hey, I didn’t say that! I just didn’t want to lie.”

“I know. And I love you for it.” He leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

And suddenly, Mario had an idea. “You know what? We’re gonna do this now.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his camera app. Then he cuddled up a bit more to Marco, placing a soft kiss to his cheek while snapping a picture.

The picture wasn’t perfect. The lighting in the dim living room was terrible and Marco looked past the camera, his smile crooked and the look in his eyes a little bit dopey. But it was true and genuine. And that’s why Mario loved it. He opened the photo in Instagram and paused to look at Marco.

“Are you okay with me doing this?” He wanted to show the world who he really was but he wouldn’t do it if Marco didn’t agree to it.

But Marco just nodded and gave him an encouraging smile, indicating that he should go on. “I’m ready if you’re ready.”

That was all Mario needed. So, without any further ado, he quickly typed in a caption, hit Share and a few seconds later the picture showed up in his feed.

Marco bent down to look at his screen. “Show me!”

Mario gave him his phone so he could see what he had written.

“ _Sorry ladies, I might not have a girlfriend but I’m still taken._ ”

“Wait! I have to do one more thing!” He took his phone, already having dozens of notifications for likes and comments, and sent the photo to his printer while getting up to go fetch it. Once printed out he went to get some tape and put the photo on his hallway wall, right between the Oktoberfest one with Ann and the pic of all of them with Epic Sax Guy that Auba insisted on taking while they had been waiting in the green room. He stepped back with a satisfied smile but bumped into Marco who he hadn’t noticed coming up to stand behind him.

“There you go. Now I got you where you belong.”

Putting his arms around Mario’s hips, Marco rested his chin on his shoulder and admired his work. “I love you, too, Sunny.” He whispered before giving him a small peck to his temple.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, I'm not delusional enough to actually think Germany would win lmao. Also, I just realised that I forgot that 8 and 10 points aren't presented separately anymore but uh.. just roll with it okay?
> 
> Comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated; a lot of work went into this! Thank you!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://goetzeus.tumblr.com/)!


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